Teton Range
by The.Dust.Of.Jack
Summary: Ennis told Jack a story about what happened to Rich an Earl, two ol' ranchers who dared to do what Jack only dreams. But there was more to them than just Earl's death, for they had to live and meet and fall in love before they could die.


Title: Teton Range  
Pairing: ...CANON, JESUS CHRIST, I KNOW. Then again, canon is JackxEnnis and EarlxRich, so whatever.  
Rating: Teens, what the hell.  
Warning: Um...I dunno, i can't remember. maybe a few spoilers. Character death.  
Disclaimer: Belongs to Annie Proulx. Don't think my name is close enough.

Summary: Ennis told Jack a story about what happened to Rich an Earl, two ol' ranchers who dared to do what Jack only dreams. But there was more to them than just Earl's death, for they had to live and meet and fall in love before they could die.

Author's Note: ...I know, it's a fanfic! its a brokeback mountain one too, ain't done one of those before xD Ain't too long, either, for me. What, about 8,000 words on word?

* * *

It wasn't anything but sky above him, so high he felt a floating kind a feeling even glimpsing at it. Before him spread out like heaven sat endless trees and a creek so shallow you could see the rocks underneath the water from even all the way up here, even on the top of the world looking down.

If he wasn't breathing and his horse wasn't neighing from underneath him, he wouldn't know anything was still alive. Up here on the hill he could feel the breath of the wind snaking around him, heading towards the mountains stretching along the horizons, but heard no sound and didn't dare break the silence.

His grandma always said to stay strong no matter what may cause him pain. As long as he was still alive, he was fine. He had never argued, always ran with that philosophy all the way through a hard life. But gazing at the everlasting blue now, he felt a hole in his stomach that didn't have anything to do with hunger, and felt that if he kept on looking a while longer into the depth he might truly drown by staring into the sky.

* * *

Richard Paul met Earl Curtiss in early 1935 on the edge of a dust road as he sat waiting for assistance from any good Samaritan who cared enough to look twice.

The road was a hundred miles straight or so and for the most part deserted. Two cars had passed him over the several hours he'd sat waiting, and it was the same one turning back on itself, probably to get to Yellowstone. It was five hours after Rich had seen anyone at all pass him by when a beat up truck spluttered it way to the broken black one on the side of the road, just as smoking and almost melted from the heat of the day as Rich's own. Rich almost thought the truck wouldn't stop, and had watched it in reserved silence; eyes winced and barely shaded by his hat as the sun shone directly above him, when it did stop in the middle of the road, and a denim-clad arm rested on the edge of the window as a face leaned out to greet him.

"Need help?" a dark-haired man, about the same age as Rich grinned down at him. Rich had given the man a blank look, displaying his answer.

"Earl." the man said, starting to climb out his truck. "The name is Earl Curtiss."

Rich had grunted at him. Earl looked down at the man sitting down in the dust, arms resting on his bent knees, covered in grime and looking older than he was in his cowboy hat and the stern lines of a grimace around his eyes and mouth made darker with muck and sun. "You gotta name?" he wondered aloud.

"Rich Paul." was the small muttering that followed another grunt.

"Nice t'meet you, Rich." Earl smiled again easily. "You gonna get up so that I can help you? What's wrong with your truck anyway?"

Richard got up without a word, and proceeded to explain the problem with as few words as possible strung together and a great many general gestures followed by the licking of lips when he decided he'd said as much as he needed to, and a cold gaze which latched onto Earl's only just comprehending one.

"Think I understand," he grinned again, white teeth almost glinting like Rich had seen in some of those movies his sister liked going to. "But some bits you're gonna have t'run by me 'gain. What happened t'your engine, did you say?"

Rich made an unhelpful shrug of his shoulders which Earl sighed at.

"Gonna have t'go look myself, won't I then?"

If Rich were anymore expressive, Earl suspected he would still only nod, and even then he didn't do it. He just looked at him with a vacant face, and Earl ignored the look and prompted Rich to assist him. Physically able, if not too talkative, Rich helped Earl fix up the truck and open the bonnet to figure out what was wrong with his engine.

* * *

Earl drove Rich to the gas station some fifty miles down the road, even going so far as giving the man some money for gas, whilst not being too sure if the man was grateful for it, or just being polite as he nodded and allowed to be helped by a stranger. Earl decided to follow Rich into the gas station when he patted his pockets and realised he had no cigarettes. "Shit." he grumbled as he went towards the entrance just outside of which Rich was getting some gas into a carton for his own truck which had run out just after its engine had sizzled.

"Just gonna go get some cigarettes." He told Rich as he passed. Rich nodded, not looking away from his task and so didn't see Earl hesitate. "D'you, um," Rich did pause then, looking up at Earl with his mucky, too stern face. "D'you want anything?" Earl said feeling stupid for not saying it in the first place. Rich looked back to his gasoline as he shook his head. "'m fine." he muttered, and Earl nodded, going to get his cigarettes, figuring he'd hesitated 'cause Rich had that kinda look about him that suggested one wrong move and he'd be reaching for Earl's own tire iron to beat him to death with.

When he came out, Rich was loading up his gas on the back of Earl's truck. Rich was tall, with hair that wasn't quite brown, and a face darkened by sun and work or both. He had large hands, and his jeans hung at his hips, belt about the only thing holding them up, ripped at the knees and a mud and dust splattered shirt which was once white tucked into them. Earl felt that he, dressed in denim, denim and some cowboy boots which looked only slightly less worse for wear than those on the large feet of Rich, looked quite smart compared to the other man, but knew that most of his other clothes were just as bad, if not worse, than the ones Rich had on his back.

He felt Rich looking at him as well, taking in the average height, and then the not as average easy, open posture, the cool stance, and the young face which showed every expression, including the slight awkwardness which Rich knew was due to his own attitude. He was acutely aware that people as free-spirited as Earl were not ones to usually associate with introverts like Rich – hell, he perhaps didn't even know they existed before now. Rich felt much older than his seventeen years looking at the man who helped him that was of similar age or older, yet looking for the world like just a child.

Earl had his dark eyes focused on Rich, and under the shade of his hat Rich's eyes looked no different.

"We should get goin'." Earl said, and Rich nodded, grumbling something that might have been an 'okay', but Earl couldn't be sure. Rich climbed into truck after Earl and accepted a cigarette when offered.

* * *

"We're almost there, I reckon." Earl grinned, and his smile didn't falter when Rich just grunted as he had throughout the entire ride there and back, even as Earl tried to stop him from doing so by attempting to goad conversation out of the quiet man. What they had established in the generally one-sided conversation (Earl's side) was that they were more-or-less the same age, Rich being closer to eighteen and Earl being closer to sixteen, and that Earl was from Salt Lake City, but had lived in Superior in Sweetwater since he was a baby, and Rich was from the other side of Wyoming, somewhere in Upton, Weston. They'd also covered that Rich's mother was somewhere in Tennessee or fuckin' Kentucky or something like that, and Earl's mama lived with his dad in Sweetwater. Rich said that he had worked at his dad's ranch since he'd been old enough to do so, and had been pulled out of school as soon as he could so that he could help his dad even more. Earl himself had dropped out of school because he hated the atmosphere and the teachers, so Rich should count himself lucky, really. He worked with his daddy at a ranch like Rich did now, but it was owned by this old cowboy, John, and his wife, Arlene from Texas. Sometimes John took him and his daddy and they went herding sheep in the summer. Rich admitted hadn't been herding sheep before. Hell, hadn't been far from the ranch before, neither.

"What are you doing out here, then?" Earl had asked. Rich shrugged, hunched over and picking at a nail with his teeth, and Earl was worried Rich going to clam up and refuse to elaborate as Earl noticed he often did, even when he'd gotten this far into a conversation. And so, Earl was surprised when he didn't. "I was driving as fuckin far as I could." he said. "Aint going back, aint lookin back, aint stoppin."

"That ain't somethin you can easily control, friend." Earl grinned as they ran parallel to Rich's previously broken black truck. "Here we are."

Richard seemed to be back to muttering all at once (and saying something which sounded a bit like 'don't think I can't see that?') even after a brief moment or two of speaking in almost articulate sentences that could pass for close to grammatically acceptable. But if Rich was taken outta school before he could even say he could come to hate it, Earl could perhaps understand his hermit attitude towards others and reluctance to talk much.

Richard got out, grabbed the gas and walked round the front to get to his truck. Earl watched him as he pushed his hat further over his forehead and how the light made the hair at the nape of his neck look blond. It wasn't really anything Earl cared much to look at, but it was more interesting than a muddy shirt and a pair of jeans. He allowed Rich to fill up the tank and turn back if he wanted to talk to Earl again on his own. Earl guessed it was the manners obviously forced into him rather than the prospect of actually talking to Earl that made Rich turn around and nod at him. "Um," Rich said. "Thanks" His lips twitched a bit, and Earl supposed that was a Rich smile.

"S'okay. Just tryin' to do my bit." Earl nodded, grinning at the twitch he'd managed to force out of Rich, and watched the older man turn back to his own truck. Earl felt like he should carry on, though, despite knowing that Rich wouldn't want more conversation than what was absolutely necessary, and another goddamn conversation with the good Samaritan was in no way necessary, for sure. "So, where you headed?"

"Nowhere particular." Rich said shortly. When he realised Earl wanted more than that he sighed heavily. "I ain't got a clue. Might end up in Utah fr'all I know."

"Utah?" Earl asked, laughing. Rich went to climb in his truck.

"Idaho, then." he then said over his shoulder. "Texas, fr'all I care. Mexico, Canada, England, even fuckin' India."

"Stand out like a sore thumb dressed like a cowboy in India, friend."

"Clothes ain't hard to change." Rich pointed out. "Ain't stayin in Wyoming, though, that's for sure."

Earl nodded, smiling all over again just as Rich thought he'd lost it for good, but he was quick to learn smiling is one thing Earl never did stop doing. "And I wish you luck." He continued. "Hope you find India real easy. Can't be much harder than Upton, 'fterall."

"Damn sure."

* * *

Richard Paul was a child from Lincoln, Wyoming who moved up with his father to Upton the second the divorce file from Rich's mother came through. He was young enough to not remember his mother, but old enough to know some grief over it. By the time he was ten he had lost all care as well as hope that his mama loved him and was gonna come get him. He didn't know why his father decided she was too good for her all of a sudden 'cause his father refused to talk about it and had tanned his hide good and proper when he'd asked too many times back when he was six or seven. By the time he was eight he stopped his childish hoping that this would be the year his mama'd come see him on his birthday or at Christmas, or even just come any damn day and take him away. He hadn't been to Lincoln since him and his father moved, but he was sure it'd be better than the practically empty town he lived in. He had nothing against the people in Upton, he swore, 'cept that he did actually 'cause they were all his father's friends, and his father weren't the nicest o' fellas, so his friend were even less so.

By sixteen his grandma and granddad had gone and got him a pick-up truck and he was driving miles away every time he got the chance – often driving straight out of Wyoming and into South Dakota, Nebraska, or Colorado when he had the money and the time. One memorable time he'd gone all the way from Weston, down passed Colorado, through New Mexico and into Texas. Over a few days he'd gone all the way down to Austin and stayed there for a week for no other reason than 'I ain't going to that fuckin ranch in Wyoming, no way'. He didn't mean it, 'cause he meant he didn't wanna go home to his father – the ranch itself was a pretty nice set up. But he always ended up back there, anyway.

He'd told his father at almost eighteen that he was moving out that instant, and couldn't wait no longer. He said Rich ain't goin nowhere, and even if Rich did get out of the house, he ain't got nowhere to go – probably would just end up at his grand-mother's. And anyway, you're helping me on his goddamn ranch. Rich said he was wrong, 'cause he was leaving that second, the trucks already loaded up. His father had yelled that he was going to stay. Rich'd said he was getting away, and ain't coming back. His father said he no bloody wasn't, if he walked out that door. Rich had agreed, and was gone from the house and into his truck before anyone could stop him.

When he got out of Upton and found his way in Gilette in Campbell, he'd found a payphone and called his grandma, telling her he was gone for good. He said he'd find a good place to live, and a job, maybe even in a different state, so she shouldn't worry. She said to stay strong. He said he loved her.

* * *

He found his mother when he went to Tennessee on business with his employer at a ranch over in Natrona. His name was Grant Moore. Moore said that 'cause Rich ain't never been he may as well come along for the ride, and Rich knew just as much about the cattle as Moore did 'cause Rich was good at his job and picky about making sure everything was perfect before Moore even had time to wake up properly.

The drive to Tennessee bored Rich to tears, having never driven so far all at once. His adventure down to Austin had taken him a few days not 'cause it was so far but 'cause it was an adventure and like hell wasn't he gonna treat it as such. He bought something from everywhere he went and gave the gifts to his grandparents when he got home. Sort of as a pathetic 'thank you' for being the only decent god damn humans on this here planet.

It was a Mr Frank Stark and his wife Jenny whom had offered them dinner at their city home in Nashville, which Rich had loved almost as much as Casper when he'd first arrived. Moore had introduced himself as "Grant Moore" and Rich as "This here is my best ranch hand, Richard Paul." and Jenny had started to stare at him in a funny way. Rich had stared back at the woman, but she didn't register as anyone Rich had memory of seeing before. It wasn't until, laughing, Stark nudged his wife gently and said, "That's Jenny's here last name too. Before she was married, of course."

Moore had said, "You don't say." Now he was looking at Jenny Stark nee Paul (technically, nee Ridgeway, but obviously she didn't take back her real maiden name after the divorce) weirdly as well, and Rich had stopped breathing for a moment. Stark didn't notice anything had changed in the air for a few minutes, but stopped his babbling instantly when he did.

"You alright lad?" he asked him. Rich stood up and muttered "Excuse me" as politely as he could manage before he stepped outside for some much needed air.

He walked until he found a bench in the large garden, and a stared up into the cloudless sky, his hat shielding his eyes, wondering whether he'd just over-reacted and made a wild presumption or whether that really happened and that really was his mother. Afterall, she did seem about the right age. Rich supposed she looked a bit like him too, in a few little ways. Nose, straight and narrow. Hair colour, a strange colour that wasn't dark enough to be a brown and wasn't light enough to be a blond. Besides that, and Rich was loathe to admit it, he did have a fair bit of his father in him and none of this woman.

When Jenny Stark sat down next to him, shoulders hunched around her ears, eyes darting around at the pavement, avoiding the occasional glare Rich would send her, Rich saw something new. A quietness Rich had obviously inherited as well the ability to communicate to others through the slightest shrug or smallest look.

They didn't have much to say to each other, but Jenny gave him a phone number, and mumbled that she'd never thought she'd see Rich again, but she was glad she had at least once.

They went home soon after, deal successful, but Rich left with a wariness he hadn't come to Tennessee with.

* * *

Wyoming wasn't a place he wanted to leave, no way, so when he was let go by Moore at nineteen he angrily ran into the north, anywhere really where the signs led him. They led him nowhere, and he was left stranded in the middle of Jackson in Teton, with no job and no way forward. Only a small bit of money in his pocket he'd use on food and a bit of small change which he had used to call his grandma and make sure she knew he was alive. The old biddy was probably worrying her head off every day. She had told him he was too young to be out in Wyoming alone. Personally, Rich thought that was bull.

Without the money for a hotel, he'd fallen asleep on his steering wheel after banging his head against it so many times. If he hadn't been stupid before he certainly was now, that's for damn sure, with half his brain cells missing. His headache was proof of his own idiocy. He wouldn't be doing that again any time soon.

He was jolted awake by a beeping of another truck, just as beaten and bashed up as his own.

"Y'alright?" a dark haired man about the same age as him asked. Rich took a moment to figure out who it was.

"Earl Curtiss?" he asked faintly, voice croaky with disuse from the past few weeks. "What're you doin here? Ain't Sweetwater."

"Don't I know it." Earl grinned. "I asked after you a while back." he then explained, leaning out of his truck with that smile he still hadn't lost in the last damn year and a half. "Found your father's ranch an' everything. Said you'd run off, god knows where. So, I found your grandmother – purely by accident, y'understand, and she said last time you'd called you'd found yourself somewhere in Teton. I didn't really know where else to go in Teton, 'cept Jackson. If I didn't find you here, I probably would'a given up."

Rich was staring at him in shock. "Why'd you go t'such a trouble, Earl? Seems like a damn fine bit o' effort."

"In a way, it really wasn't. I was in Weston anyway, so I went t'see if you had really gone to India. When I found you hadn't, I was a bit worried you'd end up in trouble instead." Earl grinned at Rich, who was still slump against his steering wheel. "Hard times, bud?"

"You ain't got no idea, Sweetwater." Rich groaned.

"Bloody lucky I did find you when I did, then. Wouldn't want to have found you with your brain all over that there wheel – would make me feel mighty sick."

Rich made a noise, and Earl was surprised to find it may have almost been a laugh. He wondered if Rich really was feeling the times that bad.

"Where were you headed?" Earl asked, and Rich sighed.

"No where particular." He said, as he had once before.

"Mighty close to Idaho." Earl smiled, remembering their last meeting. "You gonna try for India again?"

"Don't like the sound of India." Rich muttered. "Might just head down to wherever in Wyoming I ain't been or settled in, yet."

"Heading down my way?"Earl said, and Rich gave him a funny look.

"Why, where you goin?"

"Sweetwater, o'course. Bet you ain't never been to Sweetwater." Earl grinned. "But if you don't want to we could go up to the mountains for a while. Bet there are some sheep herding openings somewhere for a couple of ranch hands."

"Probably are, but ain't you gotta a home to go back to?" Rich grunted, not all too keen on the idea of hanging around with the cheery Earl more than necessary in case that level of happiness was contagious.

"Moved out sometime before I went up to Weston. Gonna look for my own place soon." He was watching Rich closely, and Rich was starting to get a funny feeling in his stomach, one that made him feel slightly nauseous.

"S'good idea." Was all he could manage, before he looked away and hunched over unconsciously, trying not to fidget too hard under Earl's gaze. "But I ain't so sure it's such a good idea to go sheep herding together."

Earl's face fell. "Why not? Get paid, good job, bit of a hassle, but no worse than working on a ranch. Real quiet out there, too. Sleepin' with the sheep ain't a bad night - looking out to the stars, keepin' an eye out during the day. Simple and sweet."

"Sounds real nice." Rich said distractedly, still trying not to fidget. He felt uncomfortable, and wasn't overly sure why. He wasn't like that with Earl before, he didn't think.

"So why don't we do it?"

"What?" Rich said, coming back to reality, turning back to Earl who was looking eager and a little bit excited. "I mean, two hands are better 'n one." he said.

Rich supposed that was true, but still felt uneasy, like something bad was going to happen. He chewed on his bottom lip, staring out the front of his truck and into the street where he saw some people shopping – mothers with kids and men going to work. He felt away from society, sitting in his beat up truck, running low on gas, with no means of earning a living. He felt himself decided before his mouth could really say it, so, without looking at Earl, he just simply nodded.

Besides him, he could see Earl beaming bright as the sun.

* * *

Nothing happened on the Teton mountain range, but about three months of sticking together herding sheep couldn't have helped matters much.

It was quite late in the night the night before they planned to go home that things changed. It wasn't until the prospect of Rich going a different way, in the direction of 'nowhere particular' – the opposite of Earl, no doubt, that made Earl do something unthinkable and knock on Rich's hotel room door.

Rich had been asleep, having been practically on his feet all day bringing the sheep in and helping the count and having not slept the night before due to bears running around the campsite. He opened the door bleary eyed and hair messed up, smoothing a hand over his face and saying "Wha' d'you wan?" in a sleep-clogged voice Earl should of been used to by now, after how many weeks up on that mountain.

"Where you going?" he asked desperately, and Rich looked at him confused.

"Ain't going nowhere." He said, eyes blinking slowly, trying to focus properly. If it weren't for his good shot, Earl'd reckon the man needed glasses.

"I mean tomorrow." He asked, even though it was probably today, and could even be just the same answer as how Rich'd answered his other one.

"I 'unno yet." Rich said, walking back into his room and collapsing on the bed, but leaving the door open allowing Earl access into the room. Earl closed it behind him. "Can't I decide in the mornin?" His eyes were droopy, and Earl felt strange looking at him.

"Yeah." He said slowly, sitting down on the bed next to Rich. Rich, when realising he was still there, open the eyes he'd previously closed.

"What else did'ya want? It's too late for this. Can't a man get a decent night's sleep no more?"

Earl was silent, watching Rich with that expressive face of his, showing a despair Rich wasn't aware anyone could feel so intensely.

"What's wrong, Sweetwater?" he said, sitting up and looking at Earl expectantly. Earl, usually the one to speak whatever was on his mind, didn't quite know how to say that he couldn't stand the idea that Rich was going to leave him tomorrow. He couldn't say that, 'cause that sounded weird, and words mostly just bounced off of Rich anyway, not being able to express them himself.

"I," Earl started, catching the confused look of Rich, who was slightly worried for his friend. "I," he tried again, unable to really get anything out. Actions spoke louder than words, Earl realised all that once, for Rich especially. With Rich so close, he didn't even think, and just leaned forward.

Rich caught Earl's face hard just as they were almost close enough to touch. "What're you doing?" Rich was still sleepy enough to not be punching Earl, which was a good sign. Earl'd been punched by Rich before over the summer, and it hurt mighty fine.

Earl, over-taken by the realisation that this was what he wanted, tried to get closer, his own hands holding Rich's face in a lighter way than how Rich was gripping his, and for a totally different reason. Rich tried hard to keep Earl away. "What're you doing?" he asked again, and Earl shut him up with a powerful surge which resulted in his lips on Rich's.

Rich was frozen for a moment, unable to think of what he should be doing, before he struggled to get away. "Let go'a me." He tried to say, but was muffled by the strength of Earl's sudden desire. "Let go'a me, y'hear?" It took wondering hands and then the abrupt comprehension that all the highly strung tension that'd been collecting would go away soon. It was rough and fast, and sleep came soon after. Earl woke up before Rich did and couldn't get out of that room fast enough.

He saw Rich later, outside in the car park. He was loading the scarce few things he had on the back of his truck, and was almost ready to leave. Earl half wanted to let the man go, but was half terrified that he really would leave. He went outside slowly, making enough noise to let Rich know he was there, and standing back at a respectable distance letting Rich make up his mind to talk, or grunt, or whatever.

"Goin' to Weston for a while." He said, which was more than Earl could hope for. "Then to Fremont, I think."

Earl nodded, accepting that was as much as Rich'd tell him. "Might go home myself."

Rich got into his truck. "I'll see you around." He said shortly, not really looking at Earl, and Earl agreed, though knew Rich didn't mean it. "'haps." He said.

Rich did look at him, then. He saw the miserable look on Earl's face and wished for a moment he was articulate enough to say something meaningful, or even helpful. As it were, all he could do was give Earn a stern look he didn't quite feel that was accentuated by the sharpness of his features, and drive off.

* * *

It was mama who'd come home with a TV and mama who had the money to get the kids on the train out here and mama who paid for the pocket money each week and daddy who felt pretty shitty every time he realised he could only give Rachael one present over Christmas despite her birthday being on the twentieth of December, 'cause he only had enough for one present for each of his three kids per year at that time. Rich's now ex-wife, Belle, was kind enough to send him some money at appropriate times so he could at least pretend he had some for his kids. He paid child support when Belle probably didn't need it, but loathed to go back to court again to bitch fight with the woman over the fact Rich didn't have enough to feed himself half the time, never mind pay anything significant towards the upbringing of the children. Belle had her fancy new man now (what was it John, or James? Rich didn't honestly care, to be truthful) and he earned one hell of a pretty penny, but even without him, Belle wasn't exactly in the poor house. Rather, she was flying out to goddamn Honolulu every other weekend, normally taking the kids with her, but when she decided her and John-James needed some time alone they were shipped off to their daddy's with about a thousand dollars to help him, 'cause god knows that man needs help.

Rich didn't need no help. Money was a kind thought, perhaps, but it was for the kid's sake more than his.

Rich lived in the middle of scenic nowhere just north of Cheyenne and hadn't moved for a good four years, after five years of marriage with Belle which ended disastrously in which the only thing good thing to show for it was three beautiful children at almost eight, six and five. Rich could hardly believe he helped make them, half the time, and could believe even less that they liked visiting their daddy even when daddy didn't have as much stuff as mama.

Belle and Rich had married in the winter of 1936 and a year later she'd had Rachael. Then she'd had Nicholas, and then Joan, who'd been named after Rich's grandmother. He felt a bit shitty, leaving the kids behind, but he knew it wasn't working and he hadn't moved as far away as he could have. They lived up in Weston where he'd met her. She somehow remembered him as that quiet little boy from school. She asked why he left school, and he'd explained about his father and she'd bought him a drink. They chatted and she made him smile in a way he hadn't experienced too much before – only really when him and Earl were up on Teton Range with the sheep, but Rich didn't want to think about that. They'd married pretty quickly, and made a home near his grandmother's, and when she died in early '41, after seeing all her great-grand kids, they'd moved closer to Belle's family, and had proceeded to fall apart. They got divorced pretty quick too.

Moving to Laramie wasn't too far, he thought, and there was a train running straight down, so they were easily connected. He could have gone to a different state, easily, he thought, 'cause he had finally started to get sick of Wyoming.

Never had left, though, of course, not even when Earl fuckin' Curtiss came calling.

"Don't!" Earl had cried when Rich'd moved to close the door in his face. "Wait a minute, Rich, please."

Rich had done so reluctantly, watching Earl cautiously as he stood awkwardly in Rich's rickety doorframe.

"Let me make it up to you." He'd said finally, and Rich had grimaced slightly.

"I dunno what you're talkin about." He'd said. "Nothin happened for you to make up for. Ain't seen each other in years, afterall."

"You know what I mean, Rich! I ain't had time to find you since, and I am awfully sorry, but I needed to talk to you! So don't you dare ignore me, Richard Paul, because I swear I will fucking break the damn door down if shut it on me." He had his foot in the door, and a hand stopping Rich from pushing it, and he didn't look a damn day older, where Rich knew he looked like hell, and it pissed him off. Memories he'd been repressing for close to nine years came crashing back, and those glittering dark eyes looked so angry, do determined, so passionate, that Rich couldn't bear to look at them.

He grabbed him and kissed him, realising all over again how different he could act with Earl, as he didn't have to be careful 'cause Earl wasn't a woman he had to be delicate with, and he could hold him as strong as he wanted, as tight as he could, not have to restrain himself. He felt empowered and a flood of desire coursed through him as he realised Earl was just as tough and gritty as he was, not bothering to care how teeth ripped at lips and fingertips bruised skin.

"Let me make it up to you." Earl said, breathless, and Rich was too far gone in pleasure to do anything but agree. "Got a ranch in Sage." He said. "Still ain't never been to Sweetwater, have you?"

"Can't say I have." Rich replied, coupled with a groan which Earl shared.

"I'll tell you later." Earl breathed heavily, not expecting a reply, and certainly not getting one.

* * *

Sage was a nice town, with people that got on pretty well. About three hundred people living there, give or take a few, and the range, though beaten up when they got it, was doing real good real quick. Rich was pretty anxious about what people thought at first, but as they settled, nothing much really happened so he started to loosen up.

They were quick to establish themselves as two very different members of the community – Earl being tough but fair to his workers, and an active member of the church and holding a great amount of fairs and other such community activities that he had to force Rich to be a part of.

Rich was a perfectionist with his work, with the same hard face he'd had since he was younger, and a lot of the local kids were scared of him. On occasions like Halloween many of them didn't dare go up to the ranch, in case Rich decided he didn't want to have Trick or Treaters to handle that year. The ones who did dare it got a lot of sweets out of it by Earl who, though just as rough as Rich in many ways, loved company and enjoyed making people happy.

A few of those people was young K.E Del Mar, with his older sister Jane, and younger brother, Ennis. Ennis had known Earl and Rich since he was one. Good friends of Della Del Mar, and less good friends of George Del Mar, but at least reasonably civil even when George Del Mar made biting comments which Rich sometimes got fired up over, Earl and Rich saw the Del Mar children quite a lot.

Earl liked to tease K.E by calling him by his real name, Kenneth-Edward, and though K.E sometimes got annoyed, the eleven-year-old knew that he was teasing. Jane, at fifteen, was somewhat like a mother to the boys even though they had a more than perfect one already. The girl was more than mature for her age, and sometimes got so annoyed with the boys and their antics that she had to leave them for an hour or so with Earl and Rich when she baby-sat for her parents just to calm down when her daddy was working at the ranch and her mama was in town at the supermarket.

Ennis liked the horses more than K.E did, so hung around a lot with Rich. He said his daddy sometimes let him ride the horses, but not often. Said he only really knew how to ride through a few brief lessons. He learnt a lot from Rich showing him and letting him ride (with his mama's permission, o' 'course), and liked him fair enough. Not enough to say there was much of an attachment or anything – Ennis talked about as much as Rich did or less – but he picked up some habits watching Rich, including a chewing of the nail that Rich had picked up from his daughter when she was young, and which Ennis started to do instead of sucking his thumb.

Rich's kids passed through every month or so, and loved the ranch about as much as Earl and Rich did. They were proud of their settlement and their achievements, and finally starting to be comfortable.

Earl had never married, or had kids, and so felt a little left out when Rich was with his kids. That's how it all started.

Rachael, Nicolas and Joan liked him, thinking only that he and Rich were business partners and good friends. Rich and Earl never really bothered to correct them, for fear of them not coming back. Rachael was now fifteen, with Nicolas and Joan at thirteen and twelve respectively, and all could ride horses, but Rich got a bit paranoid with his smallest little girl on the saddle of some huge beast, he said. A bit hypocritical, as he knew the horses wouldn't do them any harm, and the Del Mar kids were round enough for the horses to be used to children, as well as all the company they received at Earl's get-togethers which were often through the church, but Joan was a special case, of course, 'cause Joan didn't spend her time around horses and wasn't as old as her siblings. Sometimes Joan thought it bloody stupid and irritating, but other times she found it sweet that her daddy loved her so much, and the other two and Earl found it hilarious tough ol' Rich had such a soft spot.

Joan, that night, was feeling a bit sick, so Rich was stern when he said she had to stay in the house tonight, even though she wanted to go riding with him and the other two. Earl said he'd stay with her, and they'd find something to watch. They'd settled down in front of the TV, not as good as her mama's maybe, but Joan was just happy Earl had managed to convince her dad to get one at all. She suddenly got hot and feverish, and as it was usually just him and Rich, Earl had panicked and realised they had nothing to help her.

He got a flannel for her forehead and put her into her bed and gone to the porch to see if he could see Rich on the horizon. He couldn't see Rich or Nicolas or Rachael, and didn't have time to go out to find them – they could be anywhere. Instead he grabbed his keys and ran to the car, deciding to go get something for her from the pharmacy in town instead. He drove down the road like a mad man, and almost crashed with another vehicle as they skidded in front of him. He stopped and honked the horn. "What the hell?" he yelled angrily. "Got a sick lil' girl at home, and I gotta get to the pharmacy!" They didn't appear to hear him.

"Shit." He growled, climbing out of the truck, and walking towards them. "If you're drunk, you can damn well just say your goodbyes now, 'cause i'll just drag you outta the way myself. Push you out with my truck into that ditch if you ain't careful."

He heard some whooping from inside. "Big words coming from a fuckin' cock-suckin' pansy, Curtiss."

"Michael Rangleton, should'a known. And yeah, they are big words comin' from my mouth, but yours is just filthy. Get your ass and this car outta the fucking way, 'cause i gotta get to the pharmacy right now."

"Run outta rubbers to fuck Paul with, Curtiss? Wait, you don't need 'em at all!" there was a round of laughter from the inside, signalling there were more than one drunk asshole in that car.

"Which one of you," Rangleton then said slowly, trying to be coherent through his drunken stupor. "Is the girl?"

Earl punched him hard. Perhaps he was a cock-sucking pansy, but he was still a man, and lived with angry, paranoid ol' Rich every day, and Rich wasn't one for restraining his fists. They got in more fights than either of them cared to keep count of, and so Earl had learnt how to throw a punch and take down Rich with just a few blows, and he was a man made out of pure muscle and stone. Michael Rangleton was made outta flubber and beer, and so Earl wasn't surprised when blood came spurting out of Rangleton's nose and he fell unconscious almost instantly, but was somewhat surprised his fist just didn't bounce off the flabby face.

But he realised his mistake as soon as he made it. The other three men – Christopher Jameson, William Harvey, and the one-and-only George Del Mar, came out of the car quick as lightning and grabbed him. Earl fought, but he was nothing against three of them, and the only one who'd ever beat George Del Mar in a wrestling fight had been Rich, and Earl was sure as hell not as strong as him.

* * *

It had been Rachael who found him the next morning, when her and her daddy went looking. Rachael hadn't ever been a maternal girl, and Nicholas was closer to Joan than she was, what with them being of closer age, so it was Nicholas who had stayed in the house to make sure Joan was okay. They'd come back late the night before to find Joan sick in bed, and Earl gone. They presumed that Earl'd gone out to get some medicine, and Rich'd told them to go to bed. He waited up as long as he could, sitting by Joan's bedside, but eventually falling asleep there. He'd started to worry when he woke up the next morning and Earl still wasn't back.

"He ain't normally gone this long." He'd told his kids, and had set out a search. Him and Rachael split up, Rachael to head into town, and Rich to go look in the opposite direction, 'cause he knew those grounds better than Rachael did.

It was along the irrogation ditch that she saw him, and she was so horrified that she couldn't even make a noise. She could hardly tell if it was Earl or not, but it didn't much matter 'cause it was a human being anyway, and they certainly didn't look like a human being anymore. It was a while before she could muster up the energy to scream.

Rich knew it was Earl immediately when he'd found his screaming daughter. One look was all he needed to be scarred for a lifetime, and he'd hugged Rachael closer, letting her cry into his chest as he took her back to the place he couldn't help but think wasn't home anymore. He grabbed a blanket off his bed, told Nicolas to get Joan up and get ready, then rode back down to cover Earl up with it before going to collect his children.

* * *

"Something's in that ditch, daddy!" Nicolas said. "Covered up! What is it, it wasn't there yesterday was it?" Rachael told Nicolas to shut up, holding onto Joan who was swimming in and out of consciousness, tightly to her chest. She was trying to refrain her tears and focus on her sister or her father who had been completely blank-faced since they'd found Earl. Not that he wasn't always, but over these past few years he'd been getting better – more open. Now he was back to how he was before – empty, vacant, with only three kids keeping him tied to this world. Looking at him, she felt almost guilty she was keeping him here.

"Where are we going, daddy? Somewhere exciting? Is that where Earl is? Did he go ahead of us?" Nicolas asked.

"The police station." Rich said.

"Oh." Nicolas asked, and Rachael was scared to see a bit of comprehension on his face. "Did Earl litter? Is that why the sheet was over there? Are we going to bail him out?"

It broke Rachael's heart to hear no emotion in her father's voice compared to that in her brother's.

"No." Her daddy answered. "Earl hasn't littered."

Rachael almost cried at the thought of him having to explain to the two kids, barely even teenagers, what had really happened.

* * *

It was 1971 when Ennis Del Mar and Jack Twist rolled up the beaten drive leading to the Forkwood Ranch in Sage. Dust flew as they parked, and Ennis was quite surprised to see the thing in shape still, to be honest. Looked a little older, but he hadn't seen hide nor tail of it since Earl died in '52.

They passed by some ranch hands and asked where Rich Paul was, and they said he was round in the stables with the horses last they saw him. Ennis and Jack thanked them, and using his memory, though blurred, Ennis found the stables easy enough.

They saw the back of a checker shirt tucked into a pair of old jeans, but were stopped from approaching him whether he was Rich Paul or not by a pretty, blond lady with her hands on her hips and a pout to her lips.

"Where d'you think you two are goin?" she said. "Who are you, anyways?"

"Jack Twist." Jack grinned easy, blue eyes glittering. His simple, white smile made her own facial expression falter slightly. Ennis had a feeling that it weren't all to do with Jack's simple, happy presence that had anything to do with it either.

"Ennis Del Mar." Ennis muttered, and her eyes widened when she registered what he said.

"Ennis Del Mar?" she said. "Why, I haven't seen you in years!"

Ennis felt a bit embarrassed to say that he couldn't remember her, and could see Jack realising all at once that Ennis really did have a past and wasn't just making it up out of the corner of his eyes. His lips twitched a bit, and he felt somewhat stronger having Jack besides him.

"I'm Rachael Paul." She said to him, and Ennis remembered her suddenly. The pretty girl from Weston, Rich's oldest, and he had a mighty crush on her when he was younger. He blushed slightly and apologised for forgetting. She said it was okay, smiling lightly, and he asked about Nicolas and Joan briefly. She told him Nicolas was in New York City now, doing some high and fancy job, and that Joan worked at a hospital down in Cheyenne but came round every so often. She herself worked with her daddy on the ranch now, doing his numbers and making sure he got through the day. Life's been tough. Didn't Ennis know it.

She pointed at Rich Paul as she said she had to go. "He'd like to see you, Ennis. Real sad about your parents. Well, to be honest just poor ol' Della, but that's a horrid thing to say."

"I think a lot of people thought that, ma'am. Thank you, anyway." Ennis nodded at her, and she said goodbye, a nice to see you again and then a 'nice to meet you, Mr. Twist' which accompanied a wink.

They went towards the man in the stables with the horses, checking with a critical eye every single one and muttering curses about his stable boys and softly whispering to his horses lovingly. In a way, Jack was reminded of Ennis with his animal voice he used on the sheep back on Brokeback.

"Mr. Paul?" Ennis said a bit hesitantly, and Rich startled, a glare to his eye as he turned around. Rich had gotten older for sure since Ennis last saw him, but that was almost twenty years ago, and in that time he'd lost Earl and had to go through the entire recovery stage and more to get the ranch back into this good a condition.

Jack saw the harsh face and grey hair for the first time and was a bit freaked out with the look of the old man. He wasn't probably as old as he seemed, must be about the same age as his own father, but Jack knew from experiences with his own father that life on a ranch could wear you down low, and it must be worse without anyone to help you.

But then Rich's glare lightened as he had a good look at Ennis, and he recognised him quickly.

"Jesus Christ." He said in a scratchy voice. "Ennis Del Mar."

"Mr. Paul." He nodded at the man who'd taught him a huge amount about horses in these very stables, and felt a bit sick remembering Earl had been there too at the time.

"Can't remember last time I seen you, or K.E. Hell, don't remember when I saw Jane, neither." He trailed off a bit, looking at Jack for a minute critically. Jack smiled at the man, and Ennis reckoned Rich saw in Jack what Rachael had seen. "What in hell are you even doing here?" Ennis remembered that bluntness, which Earl said he used so he didn't have to use more words, instead.

"Wanted to see how you were holdin' up." Ennis lied a bit, but Jack cut across. "Sorry, my names Jack Twist, and me and Ennis here are good friends. We met back in '63 on Brokeback Mountain, an' I thought we should go into a cattle and calf operation. Ennis wasn't having none of it, and I came here to ask about Earl."

Ennis knew that, though Jack was good with words, he wasn't usually as blunt as Ennis or trying to be delicate with an ol' cowboy who looked like he's had the worst of life, and so just cut down certain bits. Ennis was glad Rich was about as articulate as Ennis himself was, so understood people who used a minimum amount of words.

"Depends where you settle. Can't trust people, no way. Don't move where people have tire irons." Rich muttered, as Ennis knew he would. Jack felt a bit annoyed, what with Rich sounding just as Ennis did.

"_Everywhere _has tire irons." He said exasperatedly. Rich nodded.

"Should have a law." He scowled, turning back to his horses. "Guess you can't move nowhere."

Jack looked sad enough to break Ennis' heart, and he knew the dark hair and puppy dog face reminded Rich of someone who could break his heart too.

"You boys gotta do right by yourselves," he said quietly. "But you also gotta make sure others do right by you. Watch your backs if you do go ahead and do it. Make sure you're careful about hiding it."

Ennis made a choked sound, and Jack blushed a bit, but didn't protest. "I know that, Mr. Paul, I am aware of what could happen. Not just through what Ennis has told me about his dad and Earl – which I'm sorry about, by the way, but also through what my own father would do. But I don't see why we shouldn't just go ahead."

"There ain't no reason." Rich said, "'cept death." That shut Jack up, and Rich stared him down easily. Rich was taller than Ennis, a little worn by age and grief, but otherwise still a kid's worst nightmare and a hell of a lot stronger than Jack or Ennis. More like a horse than a man, really.

"I'm sorry for coming, Mr. Paul." Ennis said, grabbing Jack's shoulder and pulling him away slightly. "There just ain't no way of tellin' him."

Rich nodded, climbing up onto a horse as smoothly as Ennis remembered he could. It fluttered around beneath him, anxious to move, but Rich held it in place. "I knew someone like that once." He said distantly. "I loved that goddamn optimism as much as I hated it. It's a sweet life to be happy, Ennis. You shouldn't ever go against yourself."

Jack had started to smile again brightly, grinning with the red hot intensity of a thousand suns, and Ennis looked a bit stunned.

"There are some nasty people around Ennis, but they ain't a problem. What happened to Earl was due to circumstance and 'cause Earl punched the lights out of that bastard Michael Rangleton. Dunno if you remember him. Won't come near me, o' course, not before then and not after. None of them did, 'cept your father, but he was that sort of man, didn't know when to stop." Ennis didn't feel offended at the jab towards his father because he couldn't do much but agree.

"If young Mr. Twist here is willing to take a chance then I don't see no reason why not. There is always time to leave, which is something me an' Earl should'a done. We saw it comin, o'course. Just idiots not to take ourselves outta the way." He started to turn towards the wide open fields towards the mountains in the distance. "Ain't just yourself you gotta do right by, either. Think about how you can do right by him, Ennis." And he started to ride away.

Ennis was stunned by Rich's words, and Jack led him back to the truck by his arm. "I think I like him." Jack grinned, starting up the old thing and reversing it despite its splutters of protest. "We should come here more often."

Ennis got one last stab in by showing Jack where they found Earl as they drove past it. Where it was they could see a white cross on the edge of the bank, and an old shirt hanging off it, swaying in the breeze. Jack sobered up pretty quickly, not wanting to imagine it as Ennis' shirt swaying instead.

* * *

Rich wasn't sure whether Ennis would do good by Jack, or whether he'd refuse to live with the man in an attempt to keep him safe by staying away from him. Rich felt angry towards George Del Mar for not just helping that happen to Earl (yeah, he knew who had done it, for sure), but also showing his sons it before the police had time to move Earl's body. Hell, he might have shown Ennis and K.E before even Rachael found the body. A wave of sorrow washed over him, and he sat besides his horse in the long grass and watched the sky do nothing.

Once again he wondered if he could drown by looking up to the heavens. He smiled as he thought of Earl and how proud the man would be that Rich managed to make it out of his anger and sorrow and find a way to make their ranch bigger and better than ever. Earl would have wanted that, for sure, and Rich was so glad he could do what Earl would have wanted him to do. At first, he couldn't see life without the man, but the days stretched on, turning into years and though it never got any easier to wake up and know he wouldn't be besides Rich, he worked up a resistance and found solace in the sorrow – using it to remember the love that was forced out of him by Earl Curtiss, and using it to know he was alive.

His grandma told him as long as he was alive he was fine. And he was fine living here, looking up to the cloudless blue and thinking how he'll see Earl again. It was Della Del Mar that told him once - if you can't fix it then you just gotta stand it. And wasn't that the goddamn truth.

* * *

The End.

* * *

Author's Note: I dunno if other people have done it before me, but I feel real sad for Earl. Anyway, I thought, hey, there are loads of Brokeback Mountain fics, but probably not focused on Earl and Rich, so why the hell not. Been watching Brokeback Mountain a bit, see, since i found it and Donnie Darko again. Review, please, if you even got this far.


End file.
